


last night

by bbyfruit



Series: skam fic week! [1]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, SKAM Fic Week, other characters are mentioned but yes!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 09:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11803461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbyfruit/pseuds/bbyfruit
Summary: Alright, so Isak is pretty used to waking up hungover in the middle of the afternoon, especially at this point in his seventeen years of living. He’s also pretty used to waking up in Jonas’s bed, usually with Jonas curled up beside him, light that comes in through Jonas’s window and hits Isak right in the face.What he’s not used to is Jonas’s arm slung over his hip and no memory of what the fuck got them to this point.





	last night

**THE MORNING AFTER. 2:18.**

Alright, so Isak is pretty used to waking up hungover in the middle of the afternoon, especially at this point in his seventeen years of living. He’s also pretty used to waking up in Jonas’s bed, usually with Jonas curled up beside him, light that comes in through Jonas’s window and hits Isak right in the face.

What he’s _not_ used to is Jonas’s arm slung over his hip and no memory of what the fuck got them to this point.

His head is thudding and he shifts just enough that he doesn’t wake up Jonas, but he can press two fingers to his temple, adding pressure as he tries to remember. Christ, what the fuck happened?

**LAST NIGHT. 21:21.**

It’s a party. Nothing special, nothing wild. Isak doesn’t even know who’s house it is. He thinks that someone mentions some girl who’s going into her first year at Nissen, but it’s one of the last parties of the summer and Isak doesn’t give a shit.

He and Jonas weave their way into the house, the bass of the music rattling in Isak’s chest. About halfway in, Jonas makes eye contact with some girl and quirks an eyebrow at Isak, asking if he’s okay if Jonas leaves him. It’s the language that they use in these circumstances, when they can’t speak but they’re pressed close together and a little buzzed and reading each other’s minds doesn’t seem like such an illogical idea.

And then it’s just Isak, leaning against the wall and pretending like the music is good. He thinks that it’s times like this that he misses Eva the most. Which is stupid, because that makes it seem like he only misses her when Jonas ditches him, but that’s not true. He misses the way she’d make him dance even when he pretended like he didn’t want to. He misses the way she could make him laugh with a crude comment or shitty pun or shady judgment about one of the people around them. He misses looking around in a crowd and seeing her jumping up and down and glowing, always full of life, always at the center. A part of him wishes that he could be more like Eva -- open, radiating love, so unmistakable. Isak is entirely mistakable.

Isak sighs, glances across the room with a little bit of hope that maybe he’ll see someone in the same situation as he is.

He almost chokes on his beer when he sees him.

There’s a guy already looking at him, tall, standing out from everyone around him, blonde hair brushed back to show his face and his blue eyes, which are trained on Isak from across the room.

He can’t really hear the music anymore, the bass replaced by his own heartbeat in his ears. Isak doesn’t know what the _fuck_ is going on, but the guy keeps looking at him, whispers something to the boy with long brown hair beside him, grins and starts making his way over towards Isak. Or, maybe, Isak thinks dumbly, maybe he’s not coming towards Isak at all. Maybe there’s a really interesting painting on the wall behind him and the guy is really into art and he’s going to come over here and push Isak out of the way to see --

“Hi.”

“Uh, hi.”

The boy cracks a grin, a real one, with his teeth showing and his eyes crinkling up in the corners, and Isak can’t help but feel that little twinge in his stomach that lets him know that he’s in trouble. He’s fucked and this guy is hot.

“I’m Even,” the boy says, taking a step closer.

Isak coughs, looks down at his drink and tightens his grip on it in an attempt to keep his brain under control. “Isak.”

Even moves impossibly closer. His eyes are on Isak the entire time. “Yeah,” he says, “I know.”

Speechless, Isak stares at Even, his heart beating faster than ever before, like, faster than the time Jonas forced him on that roller coaster. He’s having trouble thinking this through, realizing what’s happening -- there’s a boy talking to him and smiling at him and licking his lips and blinking his eyes, slow, as he looks at Isak’s lips and what the _fuck_ , truly, what the fuck is going on?

“Isak,” Even says slowly, rolling the name around on his tongue. “Wanna get out of here?”

Someone grabs Isak from the side. There’s an arm around his waist, fingers brushing over his shirt, and Isak is about to fucking jump out of his skin until he recognizes a familiar scent of weed and cologne and something that reminds him of his childhood.

Isak relaxes into Jonas. Jonas, he can deal with, because he knows Jonas and he’s had years to learn how to control how he feels about Jonas and things are a little weird and tense between them recently, sure, but Jonas isn’t a random hot stranger hitting on him at a party. He can deal with this. He can’t deal with Even.

“I’m Isak’s boyfriend,” Jonas says calmly, sticking out a hand to greet Even.

That’s the exact moment when Isak starts coughing hard enough that he doubles over, because, actually, he was completely wrong. He can’t fucking deal with this. _This_ is entirely unpredictable and Isak thinks that he might die or kill Jonas or both.

Jonas keeps a grip around his waist as he coughs and says, “My name’s Jonas.”

Even says something, probably his name and some casual small talk or some shit but Isak can’t hear him because Jonas’s voice is still ringing in his ears and his hand is still on Isak’s body and all he can think is a constant stream of screaming and swears.

“Can I talk to you?” he chokes out eventually, wrapping his hand around Jonas’s arm tight enough that his knuckles start turning white and Jonas shoots him a dirty look.

He drags Jonas into the first door he finds in the hallway, which turns out to be a bathroom and he spares a moment to thank whoever that there’s nobody in here before he turns to Jonas.

“Alright, before you get all mad and defensive,” Jonas starts, “you looked really uncomfortable and one of my many jobs as your best friend is to protect you from creeps at parties.”

“Protect me by telling him that you’re my _boyfriend_?”

Jonas shrugs, raises one eyebrow like a challenge. “It’s, like, the oldest trick in the book. And it doesn’t bother me. If it bothers you then we don’t have to do it.”

He doesn’t regret coming out to Jonas. But it’s only been two weeks since he told him and things have been a little tense ever since, not because Jonas isn’t a great guy, but because Isak still feels like he’s lying to his best friend every time that Jonas touches him. Plus, it’s only been two weeks, and, fake or not, it’s still a _lot_ to hear Jonas calling himself Isak’s boyfriend, especially on top of the fact and a hot guy just hit on him for the first time, like, ever. Jesus, he’s a mess.

“Nah, it doesn’t bother me,” he says eventually. He’s not sure if that’s a lie or not at this point. “And I’m not defensive and he’s not a creep.”

Jonas snorts. “Sure. The kid was staring at you for, like, an entire night, but sure. Not creepy at all.”

See, the thing about Isak’s comebacks and roasts is that when he’s on, he’s _on_. But when he’s high and can’t stop thinking about a stranger’s lips and his heart is still about to beat out of his chest, he’s off.

“You’re… creepy,” he says petulantly.

Jonas just looks at him blankly for that one, and then shakes his head and moves to open the door behind him, letting the party into the room.

**THE MORNING AFTER. 2:24.**

Jonas’s first reaction when he wakes up is to tighten his arm around Isak and groan, “Isak, why the fuck are you awake?”

And Isak feels trapped under Jonas’s arm, trapped in the way his lungs are searching for air because he doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know why Jonas isn’t jumping away from him, doesn’t know what the _fuck_ happened and he thought he was over Jonas, so why is Jonas holding him right now?

“Head hurts,” he says weakly, and Jonas grunts.

“I can’t believe we did shots, you dickhead,” Jonas complains, and Isak blinks at the ceiling above him as something comes rushing back.

**LAST NIGHT. 22:47.**

He and Jonas have somehow found themselves hanging out with Even and his friends, and Isak can’t really remember who’s who, but he knows that Even has his arm slung around his best friend, and the two of them are enthusiastically rapping some song that Isak doesn’t know. Beer is flowing freely and Isak starts to loosen up, starts to feel a little less like he’s dying every time he catches Even’s eye.

“Isak’s the master of rap,” Jonas declares. He runs his hand over the back of Isak’s neck.

“Master? The fuck, man, I’m the fucking _god_ of rap,” Isak says, elbowing Jonas in the stomach for good measure. It’s an argument they’ve had many times, almost always with a joint in Isak’s hand and a guitar in Jonas’s.

“A white boy from Norway is the god of rap,” Even says flatly. He shoots Isak a skeptical look, but there’s a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “That sounds about right.”

“Don’t diss it until you’ve heard it,” Isak shoots back.

Jonas buries his laughter in a sip of beer as he informs everyone, “Isak’s also very competitive.”

Teasing Jonas is second nature, so Isak doesn’t think twice before spinning around to look at Jonas and saying, “Excuse me? _I’m_ the competitive one? You’re worse than me.”

“Are you getting competitive about who’s more competitive?” Even asks, laughing at the two of them. Or, well, he’s probably laughing only at Isak, but whatever.

Isak looks over at him. “Yeah, Jonas is bitter because I’m the best at literally everything.”

“Oh, come on. You’re awful at so many things.”

“I am not! Give me _one_ example and I’ll prove you wrong.”

“Fine,” Jonas says, crossing his arms. “You’re awful at holding your liquor. Remember that time at Eva’s?”

One of Even’s friends speaks up -- the shorter one, the one whose smile reminds Isak of someone that he can’t quite place. “Drinking game?” he asks enthusiastically.

“I’m the master of drinking,” Isak says.

“God of drinking,” Even offers helpfully, smirking at Isak.

And then the next thing he knows, he and Jonas are both doing shots, which is a terrible, terrible, _terrible_ idea, especially based on what happened that one time at Eva’s, but Isak is nothing if not determined to win, so he knocks them back like a fucking _god of drinking_.

**THE MORNING AFTER. 2:29.**

“I totally won that,” Isak mumbles.

He thinks he feels Jonas trying to laugh, just a little huff of his ribcage against Isak, and then Jonas says, “No the fuck you didn’t. Even basically carried you to the bathroom, remember?”

**LAST NIGHT. 23:35.**

The room is starting to spin, just barely, but Isak is feeling good. Better than Jonas, for sure, who’s currently laying on a couch. Isak wishes he was laying on a couch. Actually, not a couch, but his actual bed, because Noora did laundry today and he snuck his sheets in there and then Eskild helped him make it and he bets it’s so nice, so warm and cozy.

“I wanna go home,” he announces, walking very fucking smoothly to the door. It’s not his fault that the floor is uneven or something, but Even catches him when he falls. “Your arms are nice. I might throw up.”

Even’s trying to hide his laughter, holding Isak in his arms. “Okay,” he says, shooting a look over Isak’s head at his friends. “Let’s go to the bathroom, yeah?”

Nodding is something that Isak can do very well, so he does.

“Issy,” Jonas calls from the couch. “Don’t get puke on my shirt, yeah?”

Even’s walking behind him, one hand firmly planted on the small of Isak’s back to keep him up and the other on his shoulder to steer him into the bathroom, the same one that he talked to Jonas in earlier. As soon as they get in there, Isak folds himself into the bathtub sloppily.

“Jonas and I always smoke weed in the bathtub at parties,” he says dreamily, watching the way his hands press against the white sides of the tub. Even flips the lid down on the toilet and sits there, watching Isak, holding a beer in his hands. Drunkenly, Isak notes that Even hasn’t taken a single sip of it all night, which is weird, right?

Even nods indulgently. “Jonas is a good boyfriend.”

At that, Isak starts laughing. If he’s honest, it’s more like giggling, but whatever. “Fake boyfriend,” he says, trying out the words.

“Fake boyfriend?” Even repeats. He leans forward onto his knees and Isak pops his head over the side of the tub so he can look at Even.

“Jonas is my fake boyfriend so creepy guys don’t hit on me at parties because his job is to protect me,” Isak recites, scrunching up his nose.

Even starts to smile, the one where it looks like he’s right on the verge of laughing. “Am I a creepy guy?”

“No,” Isak says, letting himself slip back down into the bathtub. “That’s why I was mad at Jonas. Shitty fake boyfriend.”

There’s silence for a moment, and Isak briefly considers turning on the water in the tub, because that way he could wash the smell of weed off of himself _and_ his clothes at the same time, but then Even asks him a question that distracts him.

“Can I give you my phone number?” he asks, grinning sweetly.

**THE MORNING AFTER. 2:32.**

Blushing furiously just from the memory of his fucking embarrassing drunk self, Isak pushes Jonas’s arm off and lunges for his phone on the bedside table, bypassing texts from Eskild and going straight to his contacts list, scrolling until he sees it. Even Bech Nӕsheim.

“He gave me his number,” Isak says, shocked, staring at his phone screen and ignoring the pounding in his head at the brightness.

“Who?” Jonas mumbles beside him, covering his eyes with his hand.

“Even,” Isak explains. “From last night. He gave me his _number_.”

“The fuck, how? Was I not fake boyfriend-y enough?”

“No, I -- I told him it was fake,” Isak says. Jonas slowly raises his head to look at him.

“Oh, my God,” Jonas says slowly. “You _like_ him.”

Isak’s silence is an answer in itself.

“Fucking text him, man,” Jonas exclaims, smacking Isak’s shoulder and Isak winces.

“What do I even say?”

Jonas rolls on his back and shuffles up on the pillow until his head is level with Isak’s. “Say… Hey, Even, it’s Isak. I had a lot of -- no. Just Hey, Even, it’s Isak.”

“Smiley?”

“What the fuck? No smiley, Isak, Jesus.”

“Fine. I sent it.”

Jonas high fives him and they both cringe at the noise it makes.

“Wait, uh, why were we cuddling this morning?” Isak asks, remembering what started this whole thing in the first place.

“You seriously don’t remember?” Jonas says, looking genuinely amused.

Isak’s phone goes off in quick succession and he almost falls off the bed trying to reach it, sending Jonas into peals of laughter.

 **Even:** Hey :)

 **Even:** Do you want to come grab coffee with me today?

 **Even:** Unless you're too hungover....

 **Isak:** Never too hungover for coffee

“Shut up, I’m just -- okay, what were you saying?” he says.

Jonas stretches both arms above his head. “You didn’t go to sleep until, like, six in the morning, and you kept telling me all this shit about molecules and you literally would not lay down unless I physically restrained you.”

Isak blinks. He doesn’t think he’s ever been that drunk before in his life. “Oh.”

This time, when his phone makes a noise, Jonas flings himself over Isak and grabs it, switching it to vibrate, but Isak barely notices, because he’s too focused on how Jonas’s eyebrows raise and he grins at the screen.

“Is it him?” Isak says, wrestling the phone out of Jonas’s hands, and _oh._

 **Even:** It’s a date.

**Author's Note:**

> YAY FIC WEEK WHOOOOOO
> 
> just a psa but i wrote this entire thing in like three hours because i had 4k written and then decided that i didnt like it and completely scrapped it and started again bc im a human disaster but yes!
> 
> send me love or also hate on [tumblr](https://lesbovilde.tumblr.com/) xoxo


End file.
